


you stormed into the battlefield (of my heart)

by flawqueen



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - War, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Loyalty, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Romance, haha guess who's pining, nico is a general, this isn't like my other war fic guys this is actually happy, will is a combat medic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 10:41:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22968631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawqueen/pseuds/flawqueen
Summary: “Doctor Solace,” he says, “would you be willing to tend to a foe?”Will blinks. (He had practically expected everything but this.) “I’m sorry?”“I need you to heal an enemy for me. Can you do that?” Grace asks in a tone that lets Will know that he wasn’t really asking.“An… an enemy, sir?”“Yes. I will send him to you.”“Of course, General.” (What else could he say?)
Relationships: Nico di Angelo/Will Solace
Comments: 6
Kudos: 166





	you stormed into the battlefield (of my heart)

**Author's Note:**

> again, one of my older works. i wrote this like a year and a half ago, so my writing style has rlly changed, but i liked this so i kept it :)
> 
> also this is nothing like sprinkles of the stars guys LMAO dw it's not sad
> 
> hope u enjoy!!

Will is woken up by General Grace’s voice.

“Solace!”

The young doctor groans and sits up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He stretches, straightening his posture. His eyelids are drooping with exhaustion from the day before, and Will knows he shouldn’t complain (he _applied_ to be a war medic, for God’s sake), but he’s simply too tired. _It’s too early for this_ , he thinks, seeing the dawn-ish color of the sky through the window. Will barely manages to catch the blaring red digits on the clock next to him which reads, _4:03 A.M_., before calling, “Yes, sir?”

Will knows that his workspace is not exactly what people would consider “neat,” but he can deal with it. His medical books are sprawled all over the floor from some late night reading the day before, completely avoiding the tall, packed bookshelves that are stationed in the corner. A computer is placed on the nearly empty desk, which is next to the white bed. (Will gives himself some credit because the bed is usually made. Just not this time.)

The combat medic is trying to fix his appearance when General Grace walks in his office.

General Grace is, in an understatement, intimidating. He isn’t what Will would consider loud. Actually, his voice is more quiet than loud. But it is commanding. Grace’s usual Head General military suit is topped off with a hat, which covers most of his shaved white-blond hair. His electric blue eyes are warrior-like, just like the rest of him: his tense frame, his coiled-up energy, his hands ready to grip a gun (which is strapped to his hip, Will couldn’t help but notice warily) and attack in a second.

Despite all his, the general nods formally at Will. “Doctor Solace,” he says, “would you be willing to tend to a foe?”

Will blinks. (He had practically expected everything _but_ this.) “I’m sorry?”

“I need you to heal an enemy for me. Can you do that?” Grace asks in a tone that lets Will know that he wasn’t really asking.

“An… an enemy, sir?”

“Yes. I will send him to you.”

“Of course, General.” (What else could he say?)

* * *

The enemy is the head general of the opposing side.

(Will knows because of the name tag on his suit that reads, _Head General di Angelo_. He wonders why Grace would rescue the enemy’s Head General, but he pushes the thought away.

He’s good at following instructions, as he should.)

Nevertheless, the man is badly wounded. His suit is soaked in blood and his black hair is matted with the same sticky substance. Will internally winces at all the injuries as he fixes them, but he does not say a word as he performs multiple surgeries on the man in front of him. His arm alone takes twenty-seven stitches. Will figures that he needs more credit, because without him, the man would’ve lost several limbs (if not his life first).

Grace personally informs Will that he would be the soldier’s main caretaker. “I trust you to do what is right,” Grace tells Will, giving him an unnecessary pat on his shoulder as Will slips off his blood-stained surgical gloves.

Will senses a strange warning in his gut.

That night, after all of the surgeries were over and most of the hospital was asleep, Will sticks an IV cord into the young man’s forearm. With everything finished, Will finally gets the chance to properly examine the man – no, _Head General di Angelo_.

Di Angelo looks like General Grace, in a way – if only his raven black hair was white-blonde. His eyes are closed, so Will cannot tell if his eyes are the startling blue Grace’s is, but he has a feeling that it won’t be.

Otherwise, their physical attributes were similar, except for the fact that di Angelo was a lot slimmer and had lean muscle, contrasting with Grace’s big, built frame. Will doesn’t know if di Angelo was always this skinny, or if it was just because of the massive blood loss he had just endured, but judging from his muscle health, Will guesses that he normally didn’t eat a lot.

(Will spent half the night, even though he was drooping with exhaustion, staring at di Angelo. But nobody came in the silent hospital room.)

* * *

It takes almost a full forty-eight hours for di Angelo to wake up from his long nap.

Will is marking off items from his inventory, muttering, “I need to stock up on bandages soon…” when di Angelo suddenly comes to be.

The first thing Will notices – even though it’s stupid, really – is di Angelo’s eyes. They are pitch black, just like his hair. Will feels absurdly jubilant that he had been right – it wasn’t blue like Grace’s.

But what he didn’t expect, though, was di Angelo immediately eyeing the room and ripping off his IV cord from his arm.

“Hey!” Will quickly rushes over and reattaches the cord. The beeps coming from the heart monitor continues in a steady beat. “I worked so hard to save you, you know. Be grateful, di Angelo.”

Di Angelo’s eyes flare. “Who are you?”

Will raises an eyebrow, no longer impressed whatsoever. “I’m your doctor, thank you very much. My head general ordered me to heal you. Very merciful. And once again, I just saved your life!” Will straightens his pile of medical profiles on his table. “And you’re alive! So you might want to be a little more considerate and kindly _not_ pull out your IV cord if you want to stay that way.”

Di Angelo seems rather intrigued by Will’s attitude. “You’ve got fire,” he says. “I like that.” Before Will can reply, he executes a sigh just dramatic enough for the young doctor to scoff. “Of course,” di Angelo continues, “my dear soldiers miss me. I must return.” He clears his throat. “When can I?”

 _Straightforward_ , Will muses. “You can’t,” he says to di Angelo. “Not yet. I still need to ask my Head General when you can go. Besides, you’re not even fully healed yet.”

Di Angelo sneers, and Will thinks that the look does not go well with his otherwise handsome face.

“I’d rather die than be healed by my enemies.”

* * *

The next few weeks are easygoing.

Di Angelo calms down a bit, much to Will’s relief, but his cheeky remarks and sarcastic words remain.

It grows on Will, though.

Di Angelo grows on Will.

The sassy attitude, the sharp eyes, the disbelieving face he (quite often) makes to Will when he does something stupid – it all grows on Will.

And that is a problem, surely.

One night, when it is so late that Will cannot tell from dawn to mid morning, Will asks di Angelo, “What’s your name?”

Di Angelo blinks. “Di Angelo. That’s what you’ve been calling me for the last” – he checks the calendar quickly, then snaps back – “thirty-seven days.”

“No,” Will says a little more softly. He wraps di Angelo’s arm in fresh bandages. _He’s nearly completely healed now_ , he thinks. _I’ll be able to clear him soon_. He doesn’t know why that thought strikes a pang in his chest. “I mean your first name. Your real name.”

Di Angelo only gazes at Will. “I can’t tell you. I don’t know if you’re going to tell your head general, and if you do, I don’t know what he’s going to do with that information. If I had it my way, I wouldn’t have even told you my surname.”

The idea that di Angelo still doesn’t trust him strikes Will just as hard. He doesn’t know why.

Will can feel di Angelo’s eyes still on him, though the doctor had broken the eye contact minutes ago. “You didn’t ask him, did you?” di Angelo questions in a voice just as soft as the tone Will had used. “You didn’t ask your general why he captured me and ordered you to heal me.”

Will shakes his head.

Di Angelo looks down. “You should ask him.” He then dismisses Will with the excuse that he wanted to sleep, and Will quietly, obediently, just as he had been asked to do, leaves the room and securely shuts the door behind him.

* * *

The next day, Will gathers all the courage he could muster and walks down the hall from his office.

Down to General Grace’s dormitory.

Will draws in a deep breath, considers if he should just back away, decides that it was now or never, then finally knocks on the wooden door and, almost immediately, Grace’s deep voice says, “Come in.”

It takes a lot longer than Will had prepared to in order for him to get to the point.

First off, he keeps stuttering. He misses his beats and forgets his words and just, well, loses it. But in his defense, the general keeps changing subjects, getting farther and farther away from the topic that Will wants to discuss.

But Grace has always been the most blunt person in Will’s life.

“So, how is our guest?”

It is not rocket science for Will to figure out that the “guest” is di Angelo. “Uh, doing okay, I believe,” Will replies. “Why do you ask, General?”

Grace sips his coffee lightly, which was set next to him on his desk. “I need him soon. Tomorrow, to be precise.”

Will’s insides churn. “Why?” he repeats.

Grace looks startled, a disbelieving look on his face. “What do you mean, why, Solace? He is our bargaining chip.”

“Bar-bargaining chip, sir?”

“Yes, of course. I thought you had known this already! di Angelo is the other side’s Head General. Without him, they are lost. I plan to use di Angelo in order to make his side surrender the money that they have taken from us. The more healed di Angelo is, the more money I will demand.” He clears his throat. “So, when will he be ready?”

Fear for di Angelo overwhelms Will, and Will knows that that is not normal because he should be loyal to Head General Grace and do as he is told.

_Yes, I’ve always been good at shutting up and following orders, haven’t I?_

_But not today._

_Not ever._

“He’s not healed yet,” says Will, the lie burning in his throat. “I think he will need a little more time, sir.”

Grace nods slowly, looking down. “Alright. Alert me immediately once he is all set.”

“Of course, sir.”

It takes all of Will’s willpower to not break into a sprint.

Will can see di Angelo’s shocked expression when the doctor rushes into the hospital room and immediately rip off his IV cord.

Di Angelo instinctively stands. “What are you doing?” he hisses, looking around as if he expected someone to emerge and rat them out. “Am I supposed to go now? Why?”

Will doesn’t answer right away. When he does, his voice is tremulous. He doesn’t know if the shaking is because of the situation, or because of the fact that he had just performed the first disobedience he had ever done on a direct order. (He silently thinks that it is the latter.) “My general is planning to exchange you for money,” Will says. “I…I can’t let that happen.” He shoves di Angelo’s military suit into his hand. “There’s an emergency exit on the left side of the hallway from the right of here. Go. Run.”

Di Angelo still looked bewildered. “You…You’ll be punished.”

“If you don’t go, Grace is going to kill you anyway after he receives the money.” Will points to the door. “Go. _Go_. Don’t get caught by the security. They wander around sometimes.”

There is some part of Will’s reasonable sanity that states that he would indeed be severely punished once Grace finds out that he let di Angelo go.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t find it in himself to care.

He is merely just an employee, with General Grace as his boss.

However, he is also a doctor. And doctors, as Will had always believed, should have the strength to put their patient’s safety first.

(Did this mean di Angelo is his patient now? _…Yes_ , Will decides.)

Di Angelo looks down at his suit. He looks back at Will. “Thank you.”

“Go,” Will repeats, nodding grimly. (This feels like goodbye.)

Di Angelo turns to run out, but he pauses, hesitates, then says. “Nico.”

Will blinks. “What?”

Di Angelo makes eye contact with him. The black pit in his irises is endless. “Nico di Angelo. My name. I’ll find you again, after this war is over.”

Will doesn’t quite believe him, but he nods encouragingly. “Nico di Angelo. Got it.”

Di Angelo — no, _Nico_ — stares for a moment longer before running out the door.

(Will doesn’t check if Nico had made it out safely. He knows that there are worse things than war.

A pair of winter midnight eyes might be one of them.)

**Author's Note:**

> tell me if u enjoyed :) until next time y'all


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